Butterfly
by Cryptic Souls
Summary: Her hands capture the miniscule creature; beady eyes and lithe wings, and maybe they're both a little scared.


**Butterfly**

_Her hands capture the miniscule creature; beady eyes and lithe wings, and maybe they're both a little scared._

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><p>-;-<p>

She catches it on a summer day.

The scorching sun beaming down upon her muddled, chestnut-coloured hair, the humidity level raising to be the highest of the year, and she's somewhat pre-occupied, just observing over the rest of her family doesn't seem to be the best idea. So, she wriggles and squirms in her father's arms; the heart of a restless soul breaking free from the shackles of forced immobility.

Her sister doesn't mind, though, having been fascinated with the reeds of grass moments after their arrival at the park. She moans into her arms, frustrated with her situation; kicking a stone just to land centimetres short of one of her cousins' heads. A bellow of James Sirius's is heard throughout the property, and she hides behind her father's legs; seeking cover from her cousin's rage.

Her mum and dad and the rest of the relatives go over to ponder on what happened to make James so angry, leaving her alone momentarily.

She's relived now, and she's run-run-running away. Then it's the wind on her hair, the shade of the willow trees darkening her vision, and the scents of nature overwhelming her. It's the world around her closing in; she loses her footing – falling down a steep hill – and dirt gets everywhere and the first instinct to cry out, but she remembers that no one would hear her.

Then she cries.

It's a blur of whimpers and jumbled words and perhaps no one on earth would be able to make sense of it, but she doesn't care anymore. No one is here, she whispers, and the only company she has are the running stream and the shade of the tall-tall trees and she never has felt so alone.

She sees though, out of the corner of her eye, light just hitting the creature in the perfect moment, just for her to be able to make out from her tears. It's a butterfly, she thinks through everything, remembering a year, or two before this, a calm spring day with Louis around the area of Shell Cottage. She wanders forward anyways, the small hands of hers wiping away the tears, and she's somewhat reassured now, tranquillity placed upon her usual curious and hasty self.

The butterfly was perched on a branch sapling; delicate and simple, the pattern engraved on the wings of the creature was of swirls, evenly etched on the surface of the paper-like wings. She bent forward to touch it, afraid the small creature would flee at her touch. But the insect gave her a knowing smile, almost as if it was of a human being. It flew towards her, perching itself on her left arm, until her hands capture the miniscule creature; beady eyes and lithe wings, and maybe they're both a little scared.

It doesn't harm her though, so she takes it another step forward and strokes the bane of the butterfly. It feels like the world was at its simplest, no sounds of fighting and obnoxious banter to be heard in a five mile radius, and only then the effects of nature places in. Then she notices the true beauty of nature, the way the river looks when the water rippled, and how the sun shines down with the rays of energy coming down before them.

And she thanks it for showing how the world should be like everywhere.

She takes a side-glance at her new friend, but it was nowhere to be found. She gives herself a slight smile, hoping-wishing-thinking for it to show up again like when her cousin, Dominique did after she disappeared.

But it doesn't.

The trance of tranquillity she once enjoyed dispersed to be replaced with panic and hysteria. She doesn't understand. What did she ever do to it?

Then a voice rings out faintly in the distance.

"Lucy!" bellows her father, and then she realises where she was.

She climbs over the hill, hands slowly grasping at the unstable dirt and rocks, and flings herself to her father once she sees him.

"Lucy, we were looking _everywhere_ for you!" her mum shrieks at the sight of her. Molly clings towards James and Fred, while Grandmum Weasley picks her up and gives her a death-grip of a hug.

She understands now, as a black and white butterfly soars ahead.

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><p><strong>an**: reviews would be nice. c:


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